


it's an exploration (he's made of outer space)

by yutayummy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Confessions, Dry Humping, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sexual Experimentation, guys being dudes, irrelevant gossip girl mentions, overuse of the word dude bc they’re dudes, this wasn’t supposed to have plot but it does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutayummy/pseuds/yutayummy
Summary: "Dude, I amnotlooking into your eyes as we dry hump."Yukhei laughs at that one.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 62
Kudos: 713





	it's an exploration (he's made of outer space)

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the only lumark trope ever, but it’s my favourite lumark trope ever. It was originally going to be pointless smut but then I came to the conclusion that I just couldn’t leave it without a resolve. Enjoy!

They're wrapped up together on Mark's single bed watching Gossip Girl. One of Yukhei's lanky legs is stretched across both of Mark's, and their heads lay at either end of his pillow so they don't have to keep straining their necks to look up at the television.

Gossip Girl, unironically, is a really good fucking show. Yukhei will watch almost anything, and Mark's taste slides between gritty sci-fi and shitty romcoms, which means that Gossip Girl, in all its angsty teen glory, is right up their alley. 

They originally started watching it to waste time between classes — because doing work was decidedly _not_ on the agenda — but it escalated into them watching it almost every night purely out of enjoyment. Always in Mark's room, always together — a staple of their roommateship.

It's currently just past seven o'clock at night, Mark's room is swathed in bright light reminiscent of early morn, and they're approximately two thirds of the way through season four. On the screen, Chuck is... Chuck-ing (neither of them care for him very much; to put it bluntly: he's quite the pompous prick).

As they watch, Yukhei's fingers absentmindedly trace patterns into Mark's hip. Mark doesn't seem to mind, just continues staring at the television screen with his usual blank expression. His eyes are beginning to droop, Yukhei notices. He'd had a busy day today, hadn't napped or eaten since arriving home after handing in a stressful project on cybernetics — brainy stuff, stuff that Yukhei could hardly follow when Mark started ranting with all the ferocity of a lion cub. 

He swirls his fingertips in bigger motions across Mark's tummy, feels the rise and fall of each breath below. They accidentally brush upon the bare skin of his lower stomach, where his shirt had risen a little due to their position, and his skin jumps upon impact. He lets out a surprised little yelp, eyes far from droopy now, and Yukhei chuckles at him. 

"That tickles," Mark groans.

"I was trying to soothe you to sleep."

Mark blinks a few times as though to clear the sleepiness from his eyes. "I can't sleep, you know the rules: We can't watch Gossip Girl without the other." 

Yukhei grins. "I'd have turned it off until tomorrow."

"Mhm?" 

Yukhei hums his confirmation.

"Sorry, long day," Mark complains softly. He frees his arms from the weight of Yukhei's body and stretches them above his head; one of his elbows click loudly.

"We can turn it off, don't worry. Get some sleep," Yukhei says, though he doesn't make to move.

"I sure as fuck won't be able to sleep now that you just woke up my entire digestive system," Mark jokes, voice a tad louder than before. 

"I can't exactly see what my hands are doing down there..."

Mark startles. " _Dude_..."

With a wicked grin, Yukhei sits up to pause Gossip Girl's theatrics. He lays back down in the same position, but this time he rests his head closer to Mark's shoulder. 

"Sleep time!"

"Are you... going to sleep too?" Mark asks sceptically.

"No, I'm here for moral support. And warmth."

Mark snorts through his nose, but he doesn't pull away — he lets Yukhei continue to absentmindedly draw patterns through his shirt, eyelids fluttering shut as he does. 

Eventually, Yukhei assumes Mark has drifted off, his breathing shallower and body unmoving — but then he blinks his eyes open, stares at the ceiling with an expression freakishly void of emotion, and goes, "I can't sleep."

"Am I distracting you?" Yukhei asks.

Mark looks from the ceiling to some invisible spot right in front of him. "Kind of—But it's nice." 

Sleepy Mark is pretty, Yukhei notes. His cheeks look warm, his hair is ruffled just so, and his tongue darts between his lips for moisture before he speaks. 

"I guess it'll be better if I don't sleep so early, anyway. My sleep schedule is already fucked," Mark states warily.

Yukhei hums, the air from his nose brushing across Mark's neck. It causes him to let out a sort-of giggle, a mixture between a surprised squawk and a breathy laugh — it's quite fucking endearing. 

"Want me to put Gossip Girl back on?" Yukhei asks.

"Sure."

Technically, Yukhei breaks their established rules because he doesn't focus on the show at all, meaning Mark is the only one watching it — or maybe that means _Mark_ is breaking the rules... Yukhei doesn't quite care for the technicalities. Point is, he finds himself distracted. 

He watches Mark through his peripheral, all the while flitting his fingers across his shirt. There's something so _lovely_ about the way Mark inhales when he briefly brushes over particularly sensitive spots, like his sides. He decides to test the waters, lets his hands travel to the slip of bare skin near Mark's lower stomach, all of his senses fixated on any possible cues of discomfort. 

Mark inhales deeper, seems to freeze as he blinks up at the television screen a few times, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't pull away. 

Yukhei slowly traces upwards to where his snail trail would be if Mark was hairy. But he isn't, that's what's so infuriating — his tummy is smooth and flat beneath Yukhei's fingers and Yukhei briefly wonders whether the rest of his body is the same. 

He swallows.

At this point, he isn't even pretending to draw circles into his skin. He's just exploring the warm flesh, trailing his fingertips over the spots that make Mark's stomach jump. He slides his hands across his abdomen, feels the subtle swells and indentations of his abs, contemplates drifting higher across the dips of his ribcage. 

"I-is this okay?" Yukhei finally breathes.

Mark's reply is immediate. "Yeah, dude—yeah. It's fine, it's kinda—uh, but, yeah..." he trails off, face growing redder by the second.

"It's kinda...?"

Yukhei _hears_ him gulp. It shouldn't be so maddening, but it is. Everything about the situation has Yukhei's mind in a hazy crisis.

Mark's eyes trail to the ceiling again. "It's—It's nothing." 

"You sure?" Yukhei follows the middle crevice of his ribcage, up over his chest, and splays his hands across the middle, most of his forearm under Mark's shirt at this point. 

" _Yukhei_ ," Mark panics, turning his head to face him. It's too much, too close; Yukhei can almost _feel_ the heat radiating from Mark's face. 

"Sorry, too much?"

Mark's mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. "I'm..."

Yukhei is patient. 

"I'm... sensitive?" 

"I can tell."

"Yukhei— _Shit_." Mark's eyes shoot back up to the ceiling. "I'm—I'm, uh... _hard_."

It's almost comical how quickly Yukhei retracts his hand and shoots up. Mark isn't lying, an obvious tent in his joggers. Yukhei almost ascends thinking about how he'd silently edged Mark this entire time, and Mark hadn't uttered a single word. He wonders how long he'd been like this...

 _Shit_ , indeed.

First thought first, Yukhei isn't one to pass up an opportunity.

"Want help with that?" he asks nonchalantly.

"What the _fuck_?" Mark asks the ceiling. 

"Listen, bro, I'm not opposed to a little... scuffle between friends."

"A little _scuffle_?" Mark repeats ludicrously. "You're sick."

Yukhei chuckles and slumps back down, whispering a teasing, " _And you're hard_ ," by Mark's ear, breath hot against his skin.

"You can't do that."

"Can't do what?" Yukhei asks innocently.

"Use uncontrollable bodily functions against me," Mark supplies.

Yukhei's hands slip under Mark's shirt again and the latter makes a sound in his throat that goes straight to Yukhei's pelvis. 

"What's a handjob between bros?"

"Um," Mark pauses as though he's actually trying to think about it. It seems he's a little distracted, though. " _Not cool?_ " 

Yukhei pulls his hand back out of Mark's shirt as slowly as possible, let's what little fingernails he has drag softly against his skin. Before Mark can mourn the loss of contact, Yukhei pulls the rest of his weight over Mark's body and straddles him. 

"Yukhei, you're a fucking giant," Mark groans, fists raising to his chest. "Get _off_ me." 

" _C'mon_... I'm barely touching you." 

He wishes he was. He wishes he could lower his hips across the short distance between their crotches, wishes he could appease Mark's hard-on and his own semi at the same time.

"Have you decided whether you want my help yet?" Yukhei asks tauntingly.

"You're infuriating." His voice is getting raspier by the second and Yukhei basks in it.

"Is that a no?"

"It's a, _you're infuriating_." 

Yukhei can tell that Mark is trying to hold onto his sanity, trying to convince himself he _isn't_ horny enough to let Yukhei put his hands on him. Yukhei knows him too well, sees the cogs behind his eyelids clear as day.

"So a yes?" 

"Isn't that, like, weird?" Mark mutters.

"Only if you make it weird."

"Oh I think it's _definitely_ weird without me making it that way at all," Mark retorts.

"So a yes?" Yukhei repeats.

Mark blinks twice as fast, lashes casting shadows against his pink cheeks thanks to the lightbulb overhead. "What gave you that impression?"

"I mean, you're still hard and you haven't shut me down yet..."

Mark sighs and looks away. "Yeah, well..."

"Yeah, well, what?"

Mark gestures nonsensically with his hands. 

"Use your words, Mark," Yukhei says softly. "As _infuriating_ as I may be, I'm not making any moves without your explicit consent."

Mark mutters something that sounds an awful lot like _I need a new roommate_ under his breath. 

Yukhei dramatically clears his throat.

"Yes, sure, whatever, I consent to you being an absolute weirdo."

"It's only weird if you make it weird," Yukhei repeats.

"No, th—"

Yukhei doesn't cut him off with his mouth — not yet — but he leans in close enough that the words die out in Mark's throat nonetheless. Mark's expression is skittish at best — he definitely hadn't been expecting that and Yukhei's glee manifests in a smirk. He eventually closes the distance between them, but he does so slow enough that Mark has time to pull away if he so wishes. He doesn't. Instead, Mark's eyelashes flutter shut as Yukhei presses into him.

Yukhei has more lip — more everything, really — but Mark conveys a sense of innocence that makes Yukhei's mouth keen into his thinner lips. Kissing him is... odd — in the sense that Mark is responding fairly awkwardly — and yet it's more than Yukhei had ever bargained for.

He decides that now is a good enough time to carefully apply some weight to Mark's body; his legs are beginning to hurt from keeping himself raised and the lack of friction is doing naught for his sanity. 

When his own crotch brushes against Mark's bulge, the latter seems to panic below him, arms jabbing into his sides before settling on his biceps. He breaks away from the kiss and asks, "What should I, uh, do with my arms?"

Yukhei rolls his eyes. "Anything you want." 

Before Yukhei can lean in again, Mark stops him with a hand to his shoulder. "Y'know, this is my first time... kissing a _dude_ ," he says in an almost whisper — a tad insecure, a tad enlightened.

"Well congratulations on the loss of your gay kissing virginity!" Yukhei applauds sarcastically.

Mark scowls amidst his confusion. "It's not _ga_ —"

"Yeah, okay, cool." Yukhei presses back in before Mark can continue to derail the conversation. It's effective in shutting him up, Yukhei can attest. 

As they kiss, Mark's hands find stronger purchase on Yukhei's shoulders. As for Yukhei, he manoeuvres himself so that he's holding himself up by one of his forearms and uses his free arm to delve his fingers into the hair by Mark's ear.

Mark likes that. Yukhei can feel the twitch of his hips as he struggles not to grind upwards. 

Alas, there's no point denying lust.

Slowly — a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of ordeal — Yukhei rolls his hips over Mark's bulge to test the waters. He doesn't respond, so Yukhei pulls back from the kiss, tilts Mark's head as far back into his pillow as it will go and grazes his teeth against the juncture of his neck. 

That does it; Mark's hips surge upwards.

Yukhei subtly grinds down as he licks, kisses and bites across Mark's neck, tongue eventually dipping to the clavicle of his collarbones. 

His arms begin to properly ache from holding himself up. He shuffles his legs so that instead of being either side of Mark's, one of them is pressed between Mark's thighs and vice versa. He uses his weight to roll them onto the side and gyrates against Mark's thigh as Mark does the same. 

Considering the new position, Yukhei can't really do much except kiss Mark — or, alternatively, watch him come undone.

He settles for the latter, and it is — to quote Aladdin — a whole new world. A new perspective that instantaneously wiggles into every crook of Yukhei's brain. Mark. Mark with his cherry-red lips and cheeks, black hair pushed back against his quickly damp forehead, lone strands furled against his face. His eyes are dark, dazed, focused on the space between their bodies rather than Yukhei himself. The mole that sits on his cheek contrasts against his skin so prettily, and Yukhei aches to kiss it.

To be truthful, Yukhei had wanted to kiss Mark — to get into his pants, to be precise — for quite some time now, and it was for this reason exactly. His delicacy, his sensitivity. Mark, in every sense of the word, is _tiny_ , and Yukhei wants nothing more than to explore every part of him with his massive hands. 

Yukhei had seen remnants — _teasings_ — of his current state before — through inebriation or sleepiness or both. He's always extra clingy when he's drunk, cheeks flushed to the heavens, all giggly and joyful, and at the end of the night it's always Yukhei that yanks his tiny frame into bed and tucks him in. Stuff like that _changes_ a person, Yukhei thinks.

Those pretty eyes of Mark's squeeze shut, then, thin eyebrows furrowing under Yukhei's intense gaze. 

"Dude, I am _not_ looking into your eyes as we dry hump."

Yukhei laughs at that one. 

He slips his right hand under Mark's shirt and slowly trails it up his side, across the ridges of his ribcage, over his chest. Mark arches closer to Yukhei upon initial contact, but his movements cease thereafter. Yukhei stops rutting, too, though he's aggravatingly hard against Mark's thigh and he can feel the swell of Mark's bulge against his own leg. Their closeness brings searing warmth and unabashed havoc wrought within Yukhei's gut.

Mark's arms raise up to shield his face as Yukhei softly rubs over his nipple. His ears are red, embarrassed muffles sounding from behind his forearms. Each time Yukhei's thumb strokes over his nipple, Mark's hips subtly jerk forward. Like clockwork. 

He's desperate, meek, over-sensitive. Predictable. 

Yukhei takes the initiative and kisses him, hard. It's desperate — lust-driven on his end. He just wants to make Mark squirm, wants Mark to realise how good this could feel, how good _Yukhei_ could — _can_ — make him feel.

By the time they pull apart, their lips are slick with saliva, Yukhei is breathless, his legs ache, and he's close enough to coming untouched that he sees embers fizzling behind his eyelids.

Yukhei lets his head go lax against the pillow and Mark rolls onto his back with a, " _Fuck_." 

Through half-lidded eyes and clouded vision, Yukhei marvels at his fucked-out friend.

" _That_ wasn't on the itinerary," Mark eventually says, breathless, voice lower than usual (Yukhei belatedly realises that this is his _turned-on_ voice). His chest rises and falls with each soft pant and his shirt is hitched up far enough for Yukhei to see the skin around his ribs constricting. He's still hard.

"What can I say? I like to improvise."

Mark pauses to regain his breath. He doesn't say much, after that, just stares dazedly at the wall for a bit.

"Hey, you good?"

Mark clears his throat, accidentally spluttering a little as he does. "If I recall properly, you still owe me a—a handjob."

Yukhei's lips pull into a content smirk. "I think I do." 

He wastes no time scooting to the edge of the bed, nudging Mark's legs open and plopping himself between them. He slides his finger across the waistband of Mark's joggers before pulling them down slowly, Mark heaving his arse off the bed to help him. Instead of going for his boxers next, Yukhei takes his time to unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders. Mark chuckles nervously when both articles of clothing are being tossed onto the floor, Yukhei hovering above his naked torso with a gentle smile on his face. 

To begin with, Yukhei kisses across Mark's collarbones, down each prominent bone of his ribcage and over his tummy, before pressing one final kiss to the section of Mark's lower stomach where fabric meets skin. Mark's hands are gripping onto the sheets, knuckles red, and Yukhei can feel each microscopic vibration beneath his skin.

"You sure about this?" Yukhei asks. There's a small nod of confirmation, and Yukhei pulls down the last remaining piece of article between him and Mark's cock. It springs out of his boxers, slapping against his stomach before hovering just above it, pink and hard. He's almost hairless, nothing but slight fuzz at the base. There's too much to take in at once — Yukhei's brain overloads. 

" _Cute_ ," is all he says.

Mark guffaws embarrassedly. "You can't call it _cute_ , Yukhei. That's demeaning."

"But it's so fucking cute." He wraps his giant fist around Mark's cock, who curses in response, entire body tensing under his grip. "In a good way." 

Mark tries to hold in whimpers as Yukhei tightens his grip and drags his palm across the entire length of his cock; he needn't move it too far considering his hand practically engulfs it anyway. It's cute. Everything about Mark is so infuriatingly cute. Yukhei jerks him off until Mark's legs twitch and he's breathing heavily enough to insinuate that he's close. Then he lets go completely. 

Mark let's out a frustrated whine as his cock bobs in the air. "What the _fuck_?"

"Have you ever been fingered?"

" _No?_ " Mark deadpans.

"Can I finger you?" Yukhei asks, hands moving to cup Mark's balls to give him _some_ sort of relief.

Mark blinks rapidly, repeating, "What the fuck?"

God, he looks so pretty, lips pursed in confusion, hair splayed across his pillow. Yukhei hovers over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips; Mark seems displeased, but he relents, hands finding Yukhei's shoulders. The kiss is tender, entirely a product of Yukhei's fondness, and he pulls away before it can be tarnished. 

"I said, can I finger you?" 

Mark's mouth gapes open. "That's... that'd hurt." 

Yukhei leans back and pouts, stroking his index finger down the underside of Mark's cock as he deliberates. "I'll make sure it isn't painful, I promise." He brushes his finger against his taint and Mark's breath hitches in his throat.

"What if I'm—What if I'm not clean?" 

Sure, that could be gross. But Yukhei is _horny_ , not fussy. "When did you last shower?"

"...This morning — This _isn't_ me giving in, by the way."

Yukhei just hums playfully. "When was the last time you had a poop?"

"A _poop_?" Mark covers his face with his forearm and groans into it. "My dick is three seconds away from shrivelling into oblivion."

Yukhei sighs and trails his fingers to the tip of Mark's cock. "Y'know what, I don't even care. I'd eat shit out of your arse if I had to."

"That's it." Mark removes his arms from his face and pulls himself into a sitting position. "We're done here."

"Dude, _no_ , I'm sorry," Yukhei pleads. "I'm kidding! No scatting here! I was just trying to lighten the mood." Goddamn it, he breaks the tension with his laughter. "Arse stuff really isn't as bad as you think it is, I swear!"

Mark swallows, nose twitching as he does. "Have you tried it?"

Yukhei shrugs. He had... dabbled in the art of homoeroticism before, sure.

"And you _liked_ it?"

Yukhei nods.

Mark sighs and leans forward to rest his head on Yukhei's shoulder defeatedly. "Man, I'm just... inexperienced with that stuff, y'know—Obviously. It's embarrassing—This entire situation is _so_ fucking weird. I've never, like, even _kissed_ a guy before now."

"It's okay, you're okay. We don't have to continue if you don't want, I'm sorry if I'm pushing you too hard, dude." 

Mark exhales warmly against Yukhei's neck. "Thanks, dude. It's not that I'm not _intrigued_ —I mean—I'm sorry, I have nothing good say when I'm horny."

Yukhei chuckles airily and wraps his arms around Mark's bare waist. "What do you want?"

There's a brief silence, then Mark quietly says, "I've thought about it before."

Yukhei blinks. "About?"

"You. Like, not _you_ but—Just drunken things, y'know? I've thought—No, I won't say that, it's weird."

"Mark, I just had my hands on your cock. You can tell me anything."

Mark sighs, disturbed, into Yukhei's neck. " _That_. I've thought about your hands before... Y'know—Intrusively. Not _arse_ stuff, or anything odd, but like—yeah."

A thunderstorm bursts through Yukhei's insides at that. Mark Lee, connoisseur of heterosexualism, had _thought about Yukhei jerking him off_. Yukhei can't blame him, really — which man _hasn't_? — but it strikes him down like lighting nonetheless.

"God, this is so embarrassing, I'm sorry," Mark says meekly. 

"No, no, I've thought about you too. A lot, actually. You can probably tell." 

"Like...?"

" _Yeah_."

"Why _me_?" Mark splutters, loud against Yukhei's ears.

The answer to that is simple. "Because you're you."

"That explains _nothing_ , Yukhei. I'm hardly a sex deity, now, am I?"

Yukhei attempts to shake his head. "No, but you're—" Okay. This is more awkward than he bargained for. At least Mark can't see his face. "You're just... so pretty. Lovely, really. Your laughter is contagious and you always look so _cute_ and sometimes I have an urge to just— _Y'know_?" Yukhei clears his throat. "Besides, the vibes are absolutely immaculate whenever you're around."

"That sounded more like a love confession than a sexual fantasy, dude," Mark mumbles into his neck.

Yukhei hums. "Same difference."

"Yeah, well, my dick is soft."

Yukhei pulls away from their sort-of hug, trying to fight off a smile. "We can start again? Or not. Whatever you want."

Mark's face is a deep plum as he chews at the skin around his nails. "Sure, yeah. You can, um—"

Yukhei strokes down Mark's back in wait.

"— _finger me_ or whatever, if you want." 

"You sure?"

"Not really, but trying new things is always scary at first, right?"

"Right." Yukhei smiles softly. 

"Also can you, um, not talk about faeces?"

Yukhei snorts. "Got it. Any specific requests? I can do a mean Elmo impression."

Mark grins. "Definitely not, thanks. Just... I don't know. Be sexy?"

"I'm always sexy."

"You're always _something_ alright, but sexy isn't one of those things."

Yukhei feigns hurt and drops his voice an octave when he says, "You wound me, baby." 

Mark raises his eyebrows. "Y-Yeah, like that." 

"You like being called baby?"

"Uh, I don’t know? I guess..."

Well.

"Hmm, good." Yukhei leans forward and presses into Mark's mouth, softly at first, but then he drags his hands through his hair, down his spine, and Mark presses into him deeper, quicker. Yukhei tugs Mark's bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away and kisses across his jaw, down his neck. Mark gives in and tilts his head back instinctively, arms wrapping around Yukhei's wide shoulders.

Mark whines when Yukhei runs his thumb over his nipples and Yukhei feels the sound travel through his neck where it's pressed against his mouth. He suckles softly against his skin until there's a faint red mark, all the while brushing his fingers across Mark's nipples and abdomen. His hands wander further down, causing Mark's stomach to jump when he drifts across the ticklish bit, and he reaches for his dick. 

He's already hard. Again.

Mark mewls. "Sorry, it doesn't take me long to get going. Embarrassing, really."

"Don't worry, it's hot," Yukhei confirms, giving his cock a few tugs. Mark getting hard from kissing and gentle touches alone is _more_ than hot. "Lay down, baby." 

Mark complies.

Now they're back at square one — or five, or whatever; Yukhei had long since lost track of the order of events. 

He works Mark's cock up to that same stage of recklessness as before. Mark fails to keep his hips still, keening into the warmth of Yukhei's hands, desperate moans lost in the back of his neck as he gets dangerously close. Just like the last time, Yukhei lets go before he can reach any sort of climax, and Mark inhales like he'd just been thrown into a pool of freezing water. 

Yukhei is basically edging him at this point, and _god_ does that thought plant a seed inside his gut; he'd edge Mark for hours given the chance — but for now, he has other plans.

He starts by tracing the underside of his cock, then his balls, then drags his fingers across his taint.

"That tickl—"

Yukhei brushes his index finger against his hole, feels the skin flinch. Mark's eyes squeeze shut. 

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah, yeah—Ticklish."

Yukhei runs his hands across Mark's thighs. 

"Sit your legs up."

Mark bends them at the knee either side Yukhei, his arse now plainly in sight.

"You have a nice arse," he compliments. It's relatively small, but perky, looks great in jeans. Mark hums from the top of the bed. "I'll go get lube."

"I have some, third draw down." Mark gestures to the small set of drawers beside his bed. Yukhei hops off the bed to grab it. It's a small bottle, fist nicely in his palm. He brings it onto the bed with him and lathers his fingers with it.

He swirls his fingertip around Mark's hole at first — lets him get used to something being there, light pressure. Mark's grip on the bed tightens tenfoldand his body shakes each time Yukhei's finger slips over his hole. 

Yukhei's runs a slick hand across Mark's cock once he's content. "You still good?"

"Mhmm."

"Can I go further?"

Mark nods into the pillow.

Yukhei slathers more lube across his fingers, rubs it in with his thumb so that it isn't as cold, then presses his pinky finger against the entrance of Mark's hole — he's well aware of how massive the rest his fingers are, so he starts small.

He pushes in slowly, uses his other hand to stroke along Mark's cock as a distraction while he does, and Mark shoves the side of his face into his pillow at the drag of Yukhei's finger. 

He nestles it in as far as it will go, the rest of his knuckles knocking against Mark's taint.

"You good?"

"Y-Yeah."

"It might feel weird or burn a bit at first, but I promise it'll start to feel better." 

Yukhei's free hand leaves Mark's cock and grips underneath his thigh, pushing Mark's leg towards his body so that his arse spreads further out, giving Yukhei more room to work him open. He slides his pinky finger out, applies a little more lube for good measure, then slowly guides it back inside him. This time, he doesn't let it sit, he pulls it out the slightest bit and then shoves it deeper in.

Mark palms himself as Yukhei continues to gently finger him. Yukhei's own cock aches to be touched at the sight of his fingers in Mark, who has one leg pushed back while he rubs himself, flushed face hidden in his pillow. 

"I-I don't think I'll last very long, I'm not used to this," Mark whines.

At that, Yukhei pulls his finger out and wipes it on Mark's arse cheek, letting go of his leg too.

"Was that okay? Did it hurt?"

"No—" His voice comes out choked, warbled, much to his own surprise. He clears his throat and tries again. "No, it was surprisingly fine." 

"Do you like how it feels?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Is it okay if I use a larger finger, then?" Yukhei asks. "That was my pinky."

"Oh, woah, felt bigger." Mark stops touching himself and rests his hand on his chest instead. "Sure."

"Can I... go faster this time?"

"Whatever you want—As long as it doesn't hurt." 

Yukhei nods. He adds more lube — because he sure as fuck isn't about to be skimpy with it — to his middle finger this time; it may be a big jump, from pinky to middle finger, but Mark looks so close, so gone and Yukhei is hard and impatient. His eyes flicker across Mark's face as he reclaims his grip on his thigh: His bitten lips quiver with muffled breaths, his hair is strewn against his pillow in disarray, his skin is flushed, tacky, eyes unblinking, pale chest rising and falling deeply.

God, Yukhei is _gone_.

He pushes his middle finger in slowly to let Mark's walls adjust around it. It's a much tighter fit this time, but Yukhei's loves the feeling of his finger sheaved by warm, tender flesh. Like last time, he pushes his entire finger inside to the knuckle, lets it lay dormant as Mark clenches around it, then pulls it back out. He quickly swipes the excess lube dripping from Mark's arsehole across his finger then slides it back in. 

This time, with each insertion he gets quicker and quicker. He tries crooking his finger up towards Mark's pelvis, wants Mark to get the best possible experience, but it takes a few attempts before Yukhei elicits a whimper out of Mark that has him gripping at his cock again. Yukhei follows that pathway again and again, trying to hold himself back from ramming too harshly against his prostate. This is obviously new to Mark, and as lovely as it is watching him unravel by Yukhei's hand, he doesn't want to overwhelm him. His hips are already jutting off the bed with each thrust, moans spilling from his lips from just _one_ of Yukhei's fingers, incredibly close and over-sensitive.

Lust pools to Yukhei's stomach as Mark — as wrecked and as beautiful as he is — let's his mouth drop open and goes, "'M gonna..."

Yukhei has _never_ seen him look or sound this fucked out, not even when completely inebriated. This is a new level — nirvana.

Not caring that his knuckles ache like hell, he fucks his fingers desperately into Mark's hole and drops Mark's leg so that his newly free hand can wrap around Mark's smaller fist tugging at his own cock. Mark covers his face with his spare arm, body uncontrollably fucking into both of Yukhei's hands, and his moans are so sweet, so lovely; they ring though Yukhei's ears like siren-song. 

His cock pulsates beneath both of their hands, and then cum is spurting across his stomach, pooling into his bellybutton the slight crevices of his abs. Mark frees his hand to grip the bedsheets as he winds down, so Yukhei strokes the last dregs of cum out of Mark's system himself whilst he gently drags his finger out of his hole.

He smears the cum on his fingers across his joggers because he doesn't have wipes on hand, and climbs over Mark, careful not to brush across his sensitive cock. Mark's eyes are barely open and his lips are slick with drool but Yukhei doesn't care, he kisses him far too tenderly than he has any right to, tongue darting out to flick across his lips before he pulls away.

It somehow feels different now that Mark isn't being lulled by a facade of lust. More one-sided than it had been, if possible. 

Mark blinks up at him as Yukhei draws back.

They don't say much after that.

"Shall I clean you up?" Yukhei asks nervously.

"No, no, I can do it." 

Yukhei slumps back dejectedly, not sure where to go from here. "Yeah, 'course." 

"I think I'll just shower, then sleep—Yeah. Busy day tomorrow!" he says fake-chirpily. 

Yukhei rolls off the bed against his will. "I'll leave you to it, then." 

"...Hey, Yukhei?"

Yukhei pauses by the door. He really doesn't want to leave, he shouldn't, he should be cuddling Mark through the aftermath or something. "Yeah?"

"I don't know if the, uh, _stuff_ you said earlier was, like, an actual confession or whatever. But this was purely... between dudes, alright?"

"Of course, don't worry." 

"Okay, cool."

"Cool. Goodnight, Mark," he says softly.

"G'night," Mark drawls.

Yukhei waits for Mark to finish showering then has one of his own. He cums harder than he thinks he ever has before in his life, the image of Mark burning behind his eyelids. And if he dejectedly sits with his head against the tile wall for twelve minutes afterwards, nobody is to know.

* 

The thing is, Wong Yukhei has fallen despairingly hard for Mark Lee. What once was a tiny crush — a purely hypothetical fantasy — is now a heavy strain against Yukhei's chest. He lugs it around with him wherever he goes. 

When Mark returns to the dorm on Friday evening, Yukhei hears the jingle of keys and his heart immediately soars. Mark's mere presence ignites joy, moreso now. But the situation seems to have the opposite effect on Mark, who slinks through the dorm with a frown most nights and leaves before Yukhei wakes up most mornings.

"Gossip Girl today?" Yukhei calls from the couch. They hadn't watched it since _that day_ , and _that day_ was days gone.

"Can't." Mark shuts the door behind him and starts walking towards his room. 

Yukhei stands up tersely. "What's up, Mark? You've been awfully distant recently. Is it... y'know?"

Mark stops walking and shakes his head. He doesn't look up. "I'm just stressed, I have a bunch of shit to do."

Yukhei hums. "I could help you with that."

"With cybernetics? I don't think so, Yukhei."

Yukhei chuckles. "With the _stress_."

Mark hums, fingers fidgeting with the keys in his hand. "I'm sure you _could_... That doesn't mean you _should_."

Yukhei sighs. "Well, if you _do_ want help — with anything, work included — you know where to find me. I'm here for you, as your greatest companion and most doting roommate."

"Yeah, right," Mark snorts before walking into his room and closing the door behind him, leaving Yukhei to the boring antiques show he was watching. 

He comes back out of his room a few hours later whilst Yukhei is in the midst of falling asleep on the couch. He's alerted to Mark's presence by the couch dipping under his weight, and his ears perk up at the ruffle of fabric.

"Have you eaten yet? I'm starving," Mark implores.

"Not yet," Yukhei grumbles sleepily. He blinks at the television then looks to Mark, blinking away the spots of light floating across his face. 

"Were you asleep? Shall I cook for us?"

"You can't cook," Yukhei deadpans.

"I'll order out, then?" Mark slips his phone out of jeans. "Anything you fancy in particular?"

"Not really."

Mark's thumbs tap away beside him. "It'll be a surprise, then."

"Chicken burritos aren't a surprise anymore, Mark."

"Damn..."

Yukhei chuckles and Mark joins in. 

"Did you finish your work?" Yukhei asks.

"Nearly." 

Yukhei lets his eyes leave the slight bump of Mark's nose. He tugs the television remote from under his thigh and cuddles it between folded arms, bringing his legs up to guard himself. Mark finishes typing but keeps his fingers hovering over his phone, silent.

"We should talk about the other day..."

"I don't think we should."

"Listen, either we talk about it or we go on as normal and you don't act so cold around me... Either one is a viable option but not speaking up when something seems to be bugging you _isn't_."

"I'm _not_ acting cold, I'm just... sorting through some things right now." 

" _Things_?"

"Just things." Mark makes to stand up, and says, "Shout me when the chicken burritos arrive."

Yukhei grins. 

Before Mark can make it all the way to his room, Yukhei shouts out a, "You can talk to me about anything, y'know?"

Mark doesn't reply, and that's that. 

*

The smile Mark wears when he walks into Yukhei's bedroom and slouches against the doorway is positively effervescent. Yukhei mirrors his smile automatically; Mark's happiness is infectious. 

"The cybernetics project I handed in last week went _great_!" he chirps.

"Congratulations!" He almost — _almost_ — tacks on the word baby, but stops himself just in the nick of time. Alas, he'd grown used to calling Mark baby in his head over the past week, stemming from many compromising fantasies. 

"Does that mean we can finish Gossip Girl?"

"Sure. My room. 5. Be there."

Yukhei raises his eyebrows and follows him out of the bedroom; Mark goes to the bathroom and Yukhei sets up Netflix.

When Mark returns he crawls onto the bed and props himself up against the headboard. 

"Where did we get up to?"

"I don't know," Yukhei replies as he focuses on trying to find where they left off. "All I remember is Chuck."

He finally stops skimming at a part of the episode that's probably a little later than where they should be, but it isn't hard to fill in the gaps.

Towards the end of the episode, after a bout of comfortable silence, Mark turns to him.

"Are you, like, _gay_?"

Yukhei raises an eyebrow. "I figured that was kind of obvious, Mark." 

"You never said. I don't like to assume things."

"Didn't think I needed to. Did you assume I was straight?"

Mark tilts his head. "Touché. Until you asked to stroke my dick, that is." 

Yukhei chortles. "You accepted, though. _And_ enjoyed it."

"Well..." Mark exhales through his nose embarrassedly. "You were right about it feeling good. Though I can’t imagine that having anything _larger_ up there would feel any good. I dunno how y'all do it."

Yukhei cocked his eyebrows. "You'd be surprised." 

Mark pulls a face. "Dude, I _hate_ surprises."

"What was is that you said to me last week? About trying new things?"

"Moment of weakness."

"—Or openness."

Mark sighs and raises his arms above his head to grab ahold of his headboard, looking at Yukhei dejectedly. Yukhei doesn't break the eye contact until Mark tuts and looks back at the television. 

Yukhei has an alarming urge to tickle him. 

It's almost as though Mark senses it because he drops his arms and sneers a, "Don't you fucking dare," at Yukhei's malevolent smile. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yukhei mutters pseudo-sweetly.

Yukhei waits until the episode switches over and Mark is watching on intently, threat forgotten — and then he strikes. 

The thing about Mark Lee is that he's _predictable_. He's sensitive and ticklish and easily flustered, and Yukhei senses his yelp before it comes. Mark reacts as though he'd been shocked, his entire body cocooning in on itself in anguish.

"Dickhead," Mark mutters loudly from between his knees. 

The thing about Wong Yukhei is that he's _relentless_. Or, as Mark would put it, infuriating. With his eyes set firmly on the prize — Mark, of course — he reaches out and tickles his sides until Mark thrashes so hard he bumps his head a little against the headboard. Yukhei stops, contentedly, to admire his handiwork.

And that, lads, is a win. 

"You're a dickhead," Mark repeats. He knows that nine times out of ten Yukhei will retaliate to verbal harassment with more tickling, which pleases Yukhei immensely — he calls it as it is: masochism. 

Yukhei doesn't respond, though. He just stares smugly at the television screen whilst Mark flattens down his hair and regains control of his respiratory system. 

Yukhei's personal gratification is to be admired, he thinks.

Mark takes the initiative to shimmy under his quilt where he can't be reached. They watch another episode like that until Yukhei calls it a night, slipping away to whittle down the hours before his presentation in the morning with dreams of one Mark Lee.

*

Okay, so perhaps Yukhei is pushing it.

But who is to say that Yukhei splaying his hand across Mark's thigh isn't in the name of platonic affection? Who's to say that Yukhei licking food off of his fingers or putting them near his mouth for the absolute fucking sake of it isn't in the name of personal hygiene? Who is to say that anything Yukhei does across the next week or two isn't completely normal and respectable?

Mark, probably.

But it works. Kinda. Mark notices, at least.

"You're really annoying with that," Mark points out. 

In theory, Yukhei is the greatest fake-airhead there ever was. "Really annoying with what?"

"The chopstick-noodle-slurping thing."

Yukhei licks the remnants of sauce from his chopsticks and waves them around mid-air. The sauce is spicy, which is both a win and a loss. But he won't let eventual diarrhoea discourage him. For now, he has captured Mark's attention and his lips are redder than his insides.

"Can a man not eat in peace?"

"Oh so _that's_ what you're supposed to be doing?"

Yukhei blinks sardonically and picks up a piece of chicken. "Expand?"

"It looks very much to me like you're _trying_ to trigger your gag reflex with that shit."

"Ah." Yukhei slides his tongue under the piece of chicken before enveloping it with his mouth, dragging the chopsticks away slowly. "I'll have you know I _have_ no gag reflex." 

Mark raises his eyebrows before looking away. He focuses intently on his noodles for the next five minutes, and the blush on his neck certainly isn't from spice, because Mark is about as wimpy as he is delicate.

Yukhei brandishes it as a win.

*

A thunderstorm enters the dorm and slams the door shut behind himself.

"I _hate_ engineering, I hate robotics specifically and I hate Mrs. fucking Briggs for only telling me about the design project now. So _what_ if I missed a lecture because I had to visit the fucking dentist." Mark slumps against the door, temper pooling to the ground. "Yukhei, I'm in _shambles_.”

Yukhei lingers in the middle of the room, contemplating whether or not to approach the little angry rain cloud. He decides to be a big boy and wander over, hovering in front of Mark.

"Rough day?"

"Rough day."

"I could make us pancakes?" Yukhei offers.

Mark exhales and opens his eyes. "Pancakes sound nice." 

Yukhei opens his arms and Mark falls into him, head resting in the crook of Yukhei's armpit. His arms are cold against Yukhei's arms, wind-bitten and prickly. Yukhei rubs his back for a while until Mark's breathing evens out and the weight droops from his shoulders.

"Pancakes," Yukhei murmurs as he pulls away.

"Pancakes," Mark repeats, following him into the kitchen.

As Yukhei waits for his own pancake to cook, he turns to watch Mark cutely shoving food into his mouth. "I didn't pick up much of what you said earlier except, like, that you're in shambles. But don't worry, things'll work out, they always do." 

Mark smiles around his fork. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"I am nothing if not confident," Yukhei muses. He flips his pancake onto his plate and sits opposite Mark at the table. 

"I know."

Since Yukhei did the cooking, Mark does the washing up. Yukhei swallows his last bite of pancake and takes his plate to the sink belatedly, and if he brushes his body against Mark's body to do so, that's on him.

Surprisingly, Mark turns to face him, hands dripping water all down their clothes. "You think I don't know what you're trying to do."

Yukhei places his hands on the counter either side Mark's body, effectively trapping him. "I'm not trying to do anything, your honour."

Mark hums, wipes his wet hands all down Yukhei's front, and smiles. 

"What was _that_ for?" Yukhei whines. "Was it really worth the three seconds of softly caressing your dude bro's torso?"

Mark's eyes widen. "You've absolutely lost your mind," he chortles. 

Yukhei supposes he has, in many ways.

Mark goes back to complacent staring, arms crossed, and Yukhei remains as he is. The tension is palpable, and he knows Mark feels it too. It's just a matter of Mark acknowledging it.

He had been waiting for Mark to make the first move for quite some time — or, like, whatever move they were on at this point — thus the reason for Yukhei's teasing. He quite likes a good game of cat-and-mouse, but it's only fun if the cat eventually catches the mouse.

Yukhei moves his arms closer to Mark so that his wristbones bump against Mark's hips. 

Technically, if you incorporate subjectivity into the situation, many of Mark actions from the past twenty minutes could be considered 'moves'. Yukhei is no frame of mind to act like they don't count.

Hell, he's the entire reason they're stood here facing one another, bodies practically pressed together, seemingly waiting for _something_. 

He leans down to kiss Mark, and Mark's arms immediately come up to wrap around Yukhei's neck. 

He'd been waiting, too, apparently. 

Yukhei grabs ahold of Mark's hips for real, yanking his body forward to meet his, forcing a cute squeak from the back of Mark's throat. Yukhei lets his hands roam to Mark's perky arse and he squeezes it lightly. 

They make out until they're out of breath, until the bubbles of pent-up tension burst around them, then draw away panting. 

Yukhei lifts a hand from Mark's arse to run his fingers through his hair and beams down at him as he does. Mark's arms remain entwined around his neck, though he doesn't meet his eyes.

"Want me help you unwind?"

Mark tugs his bottom lip into his mouth. "Maybe?"

Yukhei's hand trails to the back of Mark's neck and he squeezes it lightly before doing the same down the width of his shoulder, and Mark exhales softly into the touch.

"...Sure"

Yukhei squeezes his arse one final time then hoists him up onto the counter beside the sink, settling between his legs. Perplexed, Mark's grip tightens around his neck. 

He still doesn't reach Yukhei's full height, and _fuck_ is it cute.

Yukhei delves back into his mouth, hands wandering over his sides. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt today, tucked into his jeans; Yukhei tugs the fabric away and lets his palms roam across the bare skin.

He breaks the kiss and slides his mouth across Mark's jaw and neck, causing Mark to retract his hands so he can lean back on his arms to give Yukhei more room. His hands squeeze up Mark's thighs, the indentations of his hips, his tiny waist, and Yukhei finally runs his fingers over his nipples, just briefly. Mark's legs wrap around Yukhei's hips and he clenches around him.

"Can I mark you?" Yukhei asks, lips brushing against Mark's neck with each syllable. None of them point out the pun, because that would very much ruin the mood, though Yukhei silently marvels in it. 

"Yes."

Given that that is the most definite response he's ever had the pleasure of receiving from Mark, Yukhei really takes his time sucking hickeys into Mark's neck. He kisses first, then suckles, then nibbles a little, then suckles some more, then licks across the finished product, then repeats a few more times across the span his neck. Mark is probably gone from this alone, judging from the way he strains to hold himself up, the way his legs shiver around Yukhei's hips, the way he moans delicately into the air. 

When Yukhei is finished, he pulls away to marvel at his handiwork. Mark's face is almost as flushed as his littered neck, and when Yukhei's hands travels down to cup his cock through his jeans he's just as hard as Yukhei expected him to be. 

"Can I suck you off?"

Mark nods dizzily.

Yukhei wraps his arms around Mark's back and carries him to the sofa. Mark plops down, nimble fingers working the buttons of his jeans, and Yukhei sets some cushions on the floor by Mark's feet to sit on. He pulls Mark's jeans off the rest of his way, struggling with the ankles, and dumps them on the floor, then does the same with his boxers.

Once Mark is effectively undressed — save for his shirt and socks — he slouches into a more comfortable position and Yukhei settles deeper between his legs. He slides his hand down to his balls and basks in how soft his skin is.

"Do you shave?" 

"Y-Yeah?" 

Yukhei squints but doesn't question it. He runs his hands back up to Mark's cock and grips the base, guiding it from his where it lays against Mark's stomach to his awaiting lips. 

He rubs his bottom lip against the ridge below the head first, then kitten-lick across the head. Mark's pre-cum is strangely void of the usual pungent taste that Yukhei is used to — but perhaps that's on him for sucking off guys that drink nothing but Gatorade and alcohol and only eat fruit if ingested via the aforementioned alcohol. It's salty, almost pleasant, though Yukhei isn't usually too fussy anyway. His tongue darts out again to catch any last remnants, then he wraps his lips fully around the head to which Mark audibly gasps.

Yukhei's eyes flicker up to look at him, cock in mouth, and Mark stares back wordlessly. Yukhei knows that other guys like shit like this, when Yukhei boldly makes eye contact with his mouth full, but he isn't so sure whether _Mark_ does. He isn't even sure Mark knows himself. He currently seems to be drifting in the middle of two realities, torn between two sides, and it's clear he's still confused about this entire situation and all that it implies.

So, Yukhei doesn't expect Mark to enjoy the eye contact. Alas, Yukhei can often be wrong. 

Mark's hands sift through the tufts of Yukhei's hair and he grabs, hard. He doesn't do anything else, but Yukhei gets the message and uses it as incentive to take Mark's cock further into his mouth, letting it rest atop his tongue. He enjoys the way Mark pants at the lack of friction, hands dead weight in his hair, cock heavy against his fluttering tongue. He holds it there for a little while, hands gripping Mark's hips to stop them instinctively jumping up. Yukhei is salivating by the second and there's a slight ache in his jaw and burn to his eyes from staring up at Mark; Mark doesn't know how to handle the prolonged attention, momentarily taking his hands out of Yukhei's hair so he can shove his head in his arms.

When he finally pulls off, Mark's cock is dribbling with a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. Yukhei watches as it drips, then rests his head against Mark's thigh to lap up the excess from his balls. In his peripheral, he sees Mark rest a hand next to his cock, twitching with the urge to touch himself. Yukhei smiles to himself and licks all the way back up to the tip.

"Are you normally this much of a tease?" Mark retorts.

Yukhei grins up at him dopily. "This is all for you, baby."

He sinks his mouth onto Mark's cock again, this time bobbing his head lightly around the top half of it, heated and simple. Mark slips his hands back into Yukhei's hair and sinks further back into the couch cushions, eyelids fluttering shut. Yukhei draws further in, feels his nose hit Mark's lower stomach at the same time Mark's cock hits the entrance of his throat, then pulls off and repeats until Mark's hips strain to keep still under the grip of Yukhei's hands. 

"I'm not gonna last any longer," Mark says, voice in a lower register and cracking subtly at the vowels.

Yukhei pulls off and smears all the dribble and pre-cum across the length of Mark's cock with his palm. His lips are covered in much of the same, and his tongue and jaw ache and his knees aren't all that comfortable atop the cushions he laid out, but he doesn't really care. 

"Wanna fuck my mouth?"

Mark's eyes widen. " _Fuck_ , dude —Ye—Sure, yeah."

Yukhei wiggles his jaw to relieve some of the dull pain and takes a deep breath. He murmurs a, "Don't be afraid to let go," before sticking out his tongue and letting Mark guide his cock into his mouth. This time, his hands rest on Mark's thighs instead of restraining his hips. He digs his fingers lightly into the plush skin, waiting for Mark to do as he so pleases.

Yukhei's eyes flutter shut as soon as the underside of Mark's cock glides across his tongue and both of his hands entangle themselves in his hair. He focuses on the weight of his tongue, keeps his head lax enough for Mark to control it. Mark's hips fuck upwards into his mouth, faster with each passing second. It isn't long before his hips are erratic and stuttering, and Yukhei takes over and pushes his mouth as far down Mark's cock as he possibly can — his throat burns and his jaw aches and he can't really breathe, but he definitely enjoys the strain if his own hard cock is anything to go by. At that, Mark's movements become _frantic_. Out spills audible, high-pitches moans that sink to Yukhei's gut, and Mark lets slip the most broken, " _Yukhei_ ," he's ever heard.

Yukhei cups his balls and tries to keep up with Mark's movements. Neither of them are synchronised at all, so Yukhei feels the full force of Mark ramming into his throat without restriction. He starts to retch, and he can't tell whether the wetness on his face is saliva or tears, and he doesn't think he's drawn any air in a solid minute, but he doesn't pull away. He lets Mark fuck into him — Mark, pretty Mark, desperate Mark who's tugging harshly at his hair and rutting into his mouth so fucking _desperately_. 

"Oh— _fuck_ — _Yuk_ —fu—"

Considering Mark dabbles in athletics, Yukhei shouldn't be so surprised at how quickly Mark fucks into him in the seconds that lead up to his climax, but his throat sure as fuck is. He retches for real this time, and when Mark cums into the back of his throat all he can do is cough and let the liquid snort through his nose and drip out of all of his orifices. It's slightly disgusting, and he feels like the entire university just ran a train on his throat, but _god_ does his own cock throb at the sensory overload.

Mark is hot — so fucking hot. In a clumsy, dorky, delicate sorta way. He's torn between wanting to ruin him and wanting Mark to properly ruin _him_. 

Yukhei pulls of to breathe, then suckles on Mark's head until it jolts one last time and spills its final dregs of cum. He flops his head onto Mark's thigh after that, inhaling far too much air much too fast and spluttering a little because of it. Mark strokes through his hair for a little while, and Yukhei watches his cock soften right before his eyes.

After a bit, Mark says a meek, "Sorry."

Yukhei tries to smile — _god_ his cheeks hurt — and wipes his nose on his sleeve before managing to sit up a little. "It's fine. I _did_ tell you to let go."

"I didn't realise how rough I was being," Mark supplies, reaching up to brush dark hair out of his own eyes. 

" _God_ , you don't realise how hot you are, Mark."

"Because I'm not," he mumbles. 

"Just _look_ at you." 

Yukhei sure as fuck is. His thighs beneath Yukhei's spread palms, cock soft against his stomach, faint outline of abs, still-hard nipples, damp hair brushed back, high cheekbones, flickering eyes, mouth slightly parted as he exhales. He hasn't moved positions since he came, slumped into the couch with a look of absolute bliss on his face. He's so fucking _hot_.

Yukhei stands up; his legs crack, and for a second he thinks he's going to fall back down. He stumbles into the couch beside Mark, their knees knocking together, and turns to gaze at fucked-out Mark from the side. Mark side-eyes him with a faint quirk of his lips, then adjust his head so that he's facing Yukhei. 

Yukhei delicately grasps his chin and Mark's eyes glint under the ceiling lights as his eyes find Yukhei's. Yukhei desperately wants to kiss him on the mouth, but his own mouth is covered in a mixture of their bodily fluids and he most likely tastes like shit. 

He settles, instead, for pressing a kiss against the beauty mark on Mark's cheek.

Mark lets out a sort-of laugh, something in between a scoff and a hiccup, and hesitantly looks down at himself. 

"Want me to help clean you up?" Yukhei offers, slumping into the couch and closing his eyes.

Mark dismisses him once more. "I'll just go shower, it's alright." 

"Sure."

"If it's any consolation." Mark pauses. "...You definitely helped me unwind."

Yukhei had almost forgotten the objective of this entire thing — but at Mark's quip, he laughs lowly. 

*

"Did you ever sort out that _something_?"

Mark shrugs. "I think so."

Yukhei's eyes travel from the television — where the final season of Gossip Girl is playing — to Mark. "Care to spill?"

Mark looks across to him and smirks. "I wouldn't wanna inflate your ego."

Yukhei walks his fingers across Mark's knee. " _Hmm_... so it's about me?"

"Maybe..."

Yukhei reaches out to tickle Mark's sides and Mark folds over and slumps into the bed. " _Hey!_ " he yelps, "—cut that out, dickhead." 

"I want you to inflate my ego." Yukhei aims for Mark's stomach and he rolls over so that he's cocooned in the middle of his bed. 

"You'll get nothing out of me until you—" Yukhei gets one final jab in and Mark yelps "— _stop tickling me!_ "

Yukhei finally relents, retracting back onto his knees. Mark eventually unfolds from his cocoon, breathless, face red. He spreads his limbs out across the bed and exhales.

"...So?"

"So?" Mark repeats nonchalantly.

Yukhei crawls over Mark's body and grabs both of his wrists with his palms and holds them over his head in mock apprehension. That's the only part of them touching, but Yukhei is made distinctly aware of just how close they are when Mark's breath fans across his neck.

"Expose yourself." Again, that ghost of a _baby_ reverberates in his head. Omnipresent. 

"Promise you won't... like, be weirded out?" 

Yukhei furrows his brows and loosens his grip on Mark's wrists. "Weirded out how?"

"Like, _I like you_ , weirded out." 

Yukhei lets go of his wrist completely, letting his own forearms flop against the bed in order to hold himself up better, then smiles down at Mark in the most dazed, dopey way he can muster.

Mark — holy, unattainable Mark — _likes_ him.

"Don't _look at me_ like that, this is so awkward," Mark groans, attempting to roll his head away. Yukhei's forearm nudges him back.

"You're the one making it awkward," Yukhei huffs. "Why'd you think I'd be weirded out?" 

"I don't know... I mean, I _think_ you like me, but I can't really interpret cues when it comes to you." 

"Mark. Your cock was in my mouth a few days ago."

"Yeah, well. You know how most guys are."

Yukhei balks. "Should I be offended that you're lumping me in with _most guys_?"

"I'm not! I _said_ I think you like me. You do like me? Right? Because you said a lot of, uh, nice stuff, and even if you didn't mean it I guess I'm still thankful th—"

"Oh, I definitely like you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Mark deflates. "Good, because I don't know what I'd have done if I'd misinterpreted everything and questioned my entire existence for nothing."

Yukhei lowers himself and rolls over to tuck himself into Mark's side. "Care to talk me through the thought process?"

Mark shifts so that his head is against Yukhei's shoulder; they're close enough for Yukhei to be able to trace each of his eyelashes. "I was... freaked out? I didn't even know _you_ liked guys. So I guess the entire thing felt sort of—It was a fucking fever dream. I thought about it every second of every day and at first I thought that maybe I was just _attached_ because, like, I don't really... fuck around? I'm not saying—I mean it in the sense that I can get weirdly attached to intimate situations since they're so... sparse. But I was so conflicted and weirded out because you're a _guy_ a-and you're... _you_! And then—

"And then, I don't know... I sought comfort in the little things? And it became less about pleasure and more about, warmth? God this is so fucking gay—Sorry, is that offensive?" 

"It's definitely fucking gay."

Mark hums. "I guess. Well, I eventually stopped being so dense and really started to value everything you do for me, and since you'd already shoved your finger in my arsehole I was even _more_ conflicted about which side of the spectrum my feelings lay. Because, well, we—Yeah. But I like you in both ways, and I did some research and maybe... seethed a little... and I came to the conclusion that I'm... not straight?

"I'm not entirely sure whether this — this _crush?_ — is just a _you_ thing or whether it's a _me liking the male gender_ thing, but you're part of the male gender, therefore I like a boy, therefore no matter how much I swing it I'm not straight. And even if it does only happen to be you, for the rest of my life, I'd at least like to say I tried—Oh fuck, I didn't mean for this to sound like some sort of gay experiment, it kinda came off—"

"I understand," Yukhei interjects. He wraps his arm around Mark's waist to placate him. 

"Yeah? I know sexuality really isn't that black and white, but I've never really known anything else. I'm exactly like people expect me to be, and I've never really _challenged_ that before, but doing so really made me perceive things more three-dimensionally. You threw me such a fucking loop, man, and every other stressful situation I encountered—I don't know—They _amplified_. And I couldn't tell anyone about it because you're normally the one I tell my secrets to and I didn't want to complicate our friendship with my stupid feelings and—"

Mark sighs.

"I just. Went through the motions, I guess. But it's good, I'm good. Like I said before, trying new things is always scary at first. But I came to the conclusion that I'm not all that scared... If I didn't realise that _you_ were gay after living with you for over a year then who the fuck is gonna care enough to notice _me_?"

Yukhei smiles. "Oh, I think they'll notice when I hold your hand to class."

"You'd hold my hand to class?"

"Mhm... I'll even kiss you goodbye."

"Sounds kinda nice," Mark dwells. "...Why are we talking as though this is something that'll happen in the foreseeable future. We aren't even, y'know."

"Dating?"

Mark nods briefly.

"We can try, if you think you're ready." Yukhei bumps his head softly against Mark's. 

"I purposely didn't expose myself until I was."

"Good. I've liked you for an eternity already and I'm pretty impatient."

"Sucks for you."

Yukhei looks to him, and Mark looks back.

"Aren’t you gonna kiss me already?" Mark whispers.

"Do you _want_ me to kiss you?"

"Yes," Mark says breathily. "Quite a lot, actually."

Yukhei brushes their noses together. "Then I guess I'll have to do it. Oh, and Mark?"

"Yeah?" 

"Thank you for... being open with me? I want you to know that you can tell me anything, even if it involves me. Life is just a series of explorations and I'm here to help you guide your way through them, always."

Yukhei's lips are so close to Mark's lips that his response is lost in their mouths. This kiss is much sweeter than the rest; it's soft, relaxed.

Their lips roll together like ocean waves, and Yukhei's heart tumbles just so.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always massively appreciated! 
> 
> (Also, would anybody like to see a second part to this? Wherein they maybe fuck for the first time? Or just a further exploration of their relationship? Or both? I’m open to opinions!)


End file.
